Promises, promises, promises. Our lives are full of them. We
hear them in church, when a couple pledge themselves to one
other at their wedding - or when godparents, on behalf of a
baptised child, promise to renounce evil and turn to Christ.
Vows like these are clearly serious and solemn – others are
often a lot shallower, like the emailed promise of a vast
inheritance if we can just let the thoughtful donor have our
bank details. And of course we have recently been smothered
in political promises, besieged with equal persuasiveness
from both sides in the Brexit campaign, and by all the main
parties in the general election.
Today’s bible readings all contain promises, and all three
can repay a bit of thought on our part. Our first reading
certainly needs some background if we are to understand it.
In 593 BC Jeremiah and the people of Jerusalem were offered
some very convincing political promises at a time of
national crisis. Four years earlier Judah and Jerusalem had
been conquered by the Babylonians, a large part of the
population had been exiled in Babylon, and a puppet ruler
called Zedekiah put on the throne. A peoples’ party then
emerged, led by a plausible and smooth-talking prophet
called Hananiah, trying to stir up a nationalist rebellion
against Babylon. In this story Jeremiah appears as a
thoroughly principled yet anguished peacemaker, doing his
best to occupy the middle ground between opposing factions,
and between God and his people. Things came to a head when
Hananiah promised the people that rebellion would restore
stability and national sovereignty within two years. Where I
wonder, have we heard that one before? In any event
Jeremiah, no doubt with some misgivings, proposed
negotiation with Babylon rather than rebellion, as the only
way of avoiding national disaster. And how right he was.
Despite Jeremiah’s prediction that Hananaiah’s uprising
would fail, it nevertheless broke out as planned, only to be
harshly crushed by Nebuchadnezzar. Jerusalem was overthrown,
Solomon’s Temple razed to the ground, and Israel’s dynasty
of kings destroyed for ever.
There are so many lessons to be learned from this outing
into ancient history. Hananiah had of course got it wrong.
In his self-assured complacency he had exposed the nation to
mortal danger. He had thought too much of God’s protective
relationship with Israel, too little of Israel’s
responsibilities. And Jeremiah? He surely is a reminder that
the voice of the people is not the Word of God, and that the
true prophet can be right, even if he or she – in making us
feel uncomfortable - is in a minority of one. As a
church, locally and nationally, we have to take this message
to heart, learn to live it and to pray it. You may even have
come across a Jeremiah here at St. Faith’s – I can certainly
think of one or two.
In the passage from Romans, St. Paul wrestles with a similar
problem. Like Hananiah, we are all at times tempted to rely
over-much on God’s favour, and on the comforts of religion,
in a vain attempt to avoid the uneasy business of living as
the people of God. If we have been promised eternal life in
Christ, then why should we still have to struggle with sin
and death? How do we cope with evil and disaster here and
now, after the tragic events in our own nation?
Hillsborough, the terrorist attacks, the Grenfell tower -
all test our faith in God and our faith in humanity. Earlier
in Romans chapter 6 Paul gives us some encouragement. As
baptised Christians we live in a world where the old
creation and the new still overlap. Our sinful selves have
already been ‘buried with Christ’, but we are yet to be
raised in a resurrection like his. So, meanwhile, we must
carry on the struggle against sin and death, and the search
for new life: that’s why the voice of true prophecy always
moves us away from our comfort zone. The kingdom of Heaven
is indeed like treasure hidden in a field. It is already
ours but we have to find it. And if we stop looking we will
lose it for ever.
But we must leave the last word on promises to Our Lord. In
St. Matthew’s gospel, Jesus promises his disciples (and
that’s us!) that they will have their reward if they ‘give
even a cup of cold water to these little ones’. And by
‘little ones’ he means not just young children, but anyone
and everyone who is overlooked, under-privileged and
disadvantaged. The promise, the hope, that will carry us
through all the threats that we face from insecurity,
disaster, violence, sin and death is the promise that Love
will win. We are called to join Our Lord in his work of
salvation, where even the smallest gift, a cup of water, is
a vehicle of his love that brings relief, refreshment and
new life to those in greatest need. When we were in the
Cathedral last Sunday, to support Jackie Parry as she was
ordained Deacon, we heard Bishop Richard say this:
‘(Deacons) are to work with their fellow members in
searching out the poor and weak, the sick and the lonely and
those who are oppressed and powerless, reaching into the
forgotten corners of the world, that the love of God may be
made visible.’ This is the greatest promise of all – the
promise that in following Christ we will do his work, in his
name, and that even the smallest act of love and kindness on
our part will hasten the coming of the Kingdom. This is the
one promise that is the measure of all others, the test that
all prophets must pass. For a promise that doesn’t do
something, however small, to make God’s love visible, is not
worth the paper it’s printed on.